Truth and Reconciliation
by Grace O'Malley
Summary: The President and the Commander must negotiate a way to work together again, following the events of KLG 1 & 2.


Title: Truth and Reconciliation

Author: Grace O'Malley PG-13

Word count: 1,580

Characters: Roslin, Adama

Archiving: The more the merrier, but please let me know so I can provide any corrections and/or additional parts.

Disclaimers: Not my world; not my characters :sigh:

Spoilers: Through KLG2

Triumph tastes like bile. Or maybe the cancer has spread to my liver. Today, I must reach some accord with you. Tomorrow I am going to Kobol with the arrow, and I will learn my destiny. I pray that the legends will prove true, for if they do not, only dumb luck stands between humanity and annihilation.

As we walk together along the corridor, members of your crew come to attention and salute you; they're uncertain how to react to me. Mostly I think they're surprised we're even speaking--after everything that's happened.

Like me, you are barely on your feet. Unlike me, you will continue to improve, though it is not yet clear if your recovery will be complete. Responsibility is a strong palliative; we do what we must as long as we can.

I shiver; the meeting room is unpleasantly cold. Or maybe illness and medication have left me over-sensitive.

Ever the gallant, you offer me your jacket. I turn it down. Too intimate. This meeting is strictly professional. We take our seats across from one another. No one else is to attend.

You wince. The pain must have taken you by surprise before you could conceal it. Two bullets, according to rumor: one destroying a segment of gut, the other lodging in a lung. Thank the Gods you survived; no wonder it still hurts.

I imagine the raw, angry-red scars puckering the skin of your chest and abdomen. They must still be tender to the touch, and would feel inflamed to my fingertips...or to my lips and tongue.

"What are your terms?"

The question snaps me back from inappropriate musing. "No terms, just a clarified understanding."

Dead eyes in an expressionless face. You think I set you up, but the truth is I only played the cards _you_ dealt to the best of my ability.

I will never tell you about the fast-talking and back-room deals I had to pull to keep the Quorum from demanding your resignation--from _attempting_ to demand your resignation. They don't understand the limits on their authority any more than you understand the limits on yours. At least you're learning.

"You're in charge of the military--of _Galactica_. The civilian government is in charge of the fleet, of which _Galactica_ is a part."

Your eyes flicker. You open your mouth to protest. You have to.

I raise my hand to stop you, and you sink back into stone-faced attention.

Perhaps someday I can share with you the irony of Tom Zarek braying for your head because you dared to undermine "the very foundation of our democratic system." I'm sure you would enjoy it.

"The civilian government will not interfere with the conduct of military operations, excepting where military priorities conflict with priorities for the fleet as a whole. In such cases, the will of the civilian government shall prevail."

You don't blink, but you don't argue.

My heart wants to comfort you, to tell you whatever would restore such ease as we used to sometimes share. But I have a job to do.

"Captain Adama is to be released from the brig."

"No."

"Commander--"

"I will not have someone serving on my ship who has pointed a weapon at a superior officer to prevent him from carrying out my orders. It is an unacceptable breach of discipline, as well as a personal affront to my XO."

"No one likes having a gun pointed at their head." I give you the hard look you deserve, and follow it up with a broadside, "What if he left the military?"

You turn slightly gray at this suggestion, but say nothing.

"I have no idea whether Captain Adama would want to resolve the situation in that way, but I can assure you both that he would not be wasted in the civilian sector."

"There will have to be a court-martial."

My turn to dig in. "No."

Again you give me that impassive stare.

"Very well." I sigh. "I shouldn't need to spell this out for you, but I will. If you begin by bringing formal charges against Captain Adama, it will end with you on trial for treason and me faced with impeachment. The resulting chaos could lead to civil war. Believe me, it would make Tom Zarek very happy to see the presidency in tatters, as well as Colonel Tigh and, by extension, his lovely wife, permanently in control of _Galactica_."

"Ellen Tigh is involved with Tom Zarek?"

"I don't have proof, but I strongly suspect she was involved in the murder of that assassin, Valance. The Colonel was one of the few people who knew where the man was being detained."

"Colonel Tigh would never betray his uniform."

"Commander... I believe the Colonel would never knowingly betray _you_. But his wife lives with him, sleeps with him, drinks with him. She might have overheard something not meant for her ears, or pieced together confidential facts out of perfectly innocent comments."

You stare. Angry with me, but worried all the same.

You should be worried.

"Do not underestimate the power of a woman over a man who loves her--especially if he fears he may lose her."

"What have you done with Kara Thrace?" Sparks appears in your eyes; you care deeply about this. "Why didn't she return to _Galactica_ with Lieutenant Agathon and their Cylon prisoner?"

"She asked to remain on _Colonial One_ until we have completed our expedition to Kobol. After that, she plans to return to _Galactica_ and turn herself in to you. Considering all she has sacrificed and risked... I intend to honor her request."

"I suppose you don't want her charged with disobeying orders, being absent without leave, or stealing military equipment?"

I can't afford to leave you any illusions. "Either nobody goes on trial, or everybody does. We'll see who's left standing when all the cards are on the table."

"So you really believe that these made-up children's fairy tales will reveal the location of a fictitious planet." You shake your head in despair at my gullibility. "I don't understand how I could have misjudged you so."

"You may choose to believe I'm irrational, but just how long do you think we can go on before the food runs out or civil strife completely disrupts the functioning of the fleet? How long do you think it will take us to find a habitable planet--one unknown to the Cylons--by randomly searching the cosmos? Given a choice between your pretty but empty lie, and pieces of an ancient legend that so far have been falling into place one-by-one... Yes Commander, I'll grasp at the one in a million straw."

"What does the Vice President have to say about this?" You must be desperate if you seek an ally there.

"Dr. Baltar will accompany the expedition to Kobol tomorrow. While his party was stranded on the planet, he had the opportunity to examine some of the ruins first hand. He is quite excited by the prospect that the Scriptures may be shown to contain actual historical fact."

"I see." You remove your glasses to clean them, then return them to your face. "And will the Vice President be returning to his laboratory on _Galactica_ after your visit to Kobol?"

"I'm afraid Dr. Baltar is determined to have the contents of his laboratory moved to the hospital ship. He refuses to set foot on _Galactica_."

"What?" You explode. This is good: anger is a sign of life. "He has a thermonuclear device in his laboratory. He is frakking well _not_ removing _that_ from _Galactica_."

"I perfectly understand your concern, Commander. I will talk to him, but he may require certain assurances directly from you as well." I don't tell you that to my inexpert eye, Dr. Baltar appears close to a complete mental breakdown. Every conversation seems to involve competing for his attention with some invisible companion. "He's afraid of you," I say blandly.

"What?" The explosion is more muffled this time. Actions have consequences; finally, you understand that. "I see. But you're not?"

"I watched my mother die from breast cancer. She was a teacher too."

You mouth boilerplate sympathy. It's not that you don't care, but you don't yet grasp the relevance.

"Toward the end, it metastasized throughout her body. Tumors growing in her bones shattered them from the inside. Nothing the doctors gave her made much headway against that kind of pain."

Comprehension dawns on your face, and I no longer need to explain why armed marines and bare prison cells don't scare me.

"The only other thing I'm afraid of is dying before we can find a safe haven for our people."

You take off your glasses and set them on the table. Something serious is coming. "I miss you."

I am, indeed, completely taken by surprise. "I thought you hated me."

"I should."

"I have given you reason enough."

"I don't care."

I shake my head. "You don't want to come along on this ride. It won't end well, and the journey won't be pretty."

"It doesn't matter."

"You say that--"

You shove back your chair and abruptly stand. "We don't have very long, do we?"

"No, we don't."

"Then I don't want to waste the time we do have on apologies or explanations, or on trying to 'work through' our differences." You come around to stand by my chair and hold out your hand, palm up. You wait to see if I will take it.

Fini


End file.
